


All the Little Lights

by lossie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Everything is Complicated, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lossie/pseuds/lossie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Thranduil wasn't the Elvenking of Mirkwood? What if Tauriel wasn't his Captain of the Guard? What if they were someone else and yet a little bit the same? What if they had very different roles to play? What if, what if, what if...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I've been gone for a very long time and I also remember that I have other stories to finish. The thing is I got pretty much stuck. I tried to write more, but it only resulted in a major writer's block, which has kept me from writing any half-decent fanfiction for the better part of the last half a year. The fact that I'm still studying and also working on a novel isn't helping much either. I will try to return to my other stories soon enough, but for now I decided to try and write sth different than my other Thranduil/Tauriel stories. I hope you don't mind :)  
> What about this story is different, you may ask? I decided to play a little trick and do a switch, which impacted the canon a lot, to be perfectly honest. I will not tell you more though, because it'll spoil all the fun. You will know some of my plans soon enough anyway. The chapters will be a bit shorter than in my other stories, more or less like this one.  
> If you like it, please remember to leave kudos/reviews!  
> Enjoy!

“ _We're born with millions_  
_Of little lights shining in the dark_  
_And they show us the way_  
_One lights up, every time you feel love in your heart_  
_One dies when it moves away_ ”  
-Passenger, “All the Little Lights”

* * *

  **Thranduil**

* * *

 

Thranduil is bored.

Once upon a time, when he was still a child, he would have been excited beyond measure for the arrival of the Sindar elves, but, as it is, he is simply trying his best not to seem too unimpressed with the leisurely marching procession of his kin, though it isn't by any means an easy task. Even standing still proves to be difficult, since the elves located right behind him insists on pushing him forward every now and again, which in turn makes him stumble gracelessly into his father. Lord Oropher, who is normally mild-tempered and patient to a fault, bears a look of annoyance on his face the likes of which are rarely seen and Thranduil knows that if he doesn't stop with this ludicrous behaviour, he will be lectured about it at length later on at home.

He grimaces when someone's elbow connects rather painfully with his lower back, but he manages to hold still and thus avoids yet another reproaching look from his father. His thoughts drift to the little excursion he and his friend have been planning for a while and wonders if they will be able to leave _Amon Lanc_ the following morn as they wanted. The delay is quite possible due to the arrival of the lords and the ladies from Lindon, which sours his already spoiled mood even further.

He looks across the road in search of his closest friend and comrade, Elhael. They grew up together and since Thranduil has no sibling, he thinks of Elhael as a brother he always wanted to have. The _ellon_ in question is standing off to the left and in the back with his parents and two younger sisters. Their golden hair is quite easy to spot in the crowd consisting of mostly Silvan elves, whose hair is brown more often than not.

Elhael must have been looking for him as well, because their eyes meet almost at once. Thranduil feels his stomach drop a little in disappointment, when his friend lightly shakes his head and sighs, signalling to him the bad news. It is all he needs to know. They will indeed have to stay in the city for a bit longer before embarking on their journey up North.

Now he is not only bored, but irked as well, but there is naught he can do about it, no matter how much he wants to. It is his obligation to welcome the new lord of Greenwood, as well as his family and court, though the responsibility is tedious at best.

A sigh escapes his lips as he glances once again at the marching Sindar, since he has nothing better to do anyway.

It is in this very moment that he sees her.

The soft light of the slowly setting sun makes her red hair look like an inferno. Her green eyes shine with amazement as she tries in vain to take all of her surroundings in at once and the radiant smile that adorns her fair face is enough to make his breath catch in his throat. There is a circlet of mithril placed upon her brow, which indicates her station as the daughter of Lord Silevon, but he pays little attention to it and what it implies as his hungry gaze follows the slender slope of her pale neck down to her collarbones, visible still in the modest neckline of her luminous light green dress. There is a small mithril pendant resting at the hollow of her throat, though Thranduil can't decipher what it is.

He is mesmerized by her as he has never been before by anything or anyone. There is nothing he can do, but look at the vision of beauty and perfection as she rides past him on her young mare, though he longs for her to turn her head just a friction and bless him with a simple look, if not one of those enchanting smiles of hers.

She doesn't do any of those things though. Her gaze never falls upon him and, soon enough, she disappears from his line of sight. He is left there in a state of shock, unable to move or even think. Even though he has heard about her beauty, he thought the stories were largely exaggerated and thus he was certainly not prepared to behold it. He knows that he is smitten with her in an instant, but the fact that she is the only child of his lord and future king makes him realize bitterly that he doesn't stand a chance. Although he too is Sindar, as were all his ancestors before him, he is also just a young warrior of no station whatsoever. His father is a lord in name only, though he likes to boast about his title from time to time. Thranduil is not stupid. He knows that no matter what he does, she will be forever out of his reach. This thought shakes him out of his stupor. He follows his parents home in silence and remains quiet for the reminder of the eve, keeping mostly to himself as he ponders over his misfortune.

In the end he decides to forget about her. Nothing good can come out of his infatuation with her anyway.

-o-o-o-

It doesn't take him a lot of time to realize that getting the _elleth_ out of his mind is easier said than done. He catches himself thinking about her during the most unfortunate of times and even suffers an injury because of his inattention when Elhael's sword grazes his forearm during practice a month or so after his encounter with the fair lady.

His inability to forget her annoys him to no end, but at the same time he cannot force himself to do so. He is suspended in limbo, right between admiration and malice, and he thinks bitterly that escape is simply futile at this point.

He comes up with an excuse to postpone the journey up North and Elhael, who suspects something, but stays quiet, agrees to go in a few months' time without complaint, though it is obvious that he is not happy about it. Not that Thranduil actually cares all that much.

The image of her smile is too vivid in his mind to let him think straight anyway.

-o-o-o-

"I was promoted," his father announces during dinner one day, almost half a year after Lord Silevon arrived in _Amon Lanc_ and was crowned the King of the Woodland Realm.

His mother looks up from her plate and gives her husband a look of mild surprise.

"Is that so?" She inquires with interest. At this point Thranduil is also listening, his tepid vegetable soup long forgotten. "Tell us then."

"I will be the Captain of the King's Guard." The smile that lightens up Oropher's face after this proclamation is honest and bright, something that doesn't grace his features often enough.

Thranduil is struck speechless, just like his mother. The two of them look at his father as if he has gone mad, but he doesn't seem bother by it at all, since his smile doesn't weaver and all but turns into a true grin.

"Sweet Eru, what wonderful news!" His mother cries out at last. "I have always known that someone would notice your potential, _melleth_! You worried about your future in vain, I told you!"

"It's wonderful news indeed," his father says a moment later. "I'm afraid we will have to leave the comforts of our lovely house behind as a result, though I do hope that our quarters in the palace will hopefully be to your liking."

Even though his mother looks momentarily horrified by the possibility, Thranduil knows she will adapt quickly. He has heard her complain about their house often enough to know she would love to have a bigger garden and a proper room to weave in peace. She will surely have all of this and more in the palace, which will abide for the fond memories of their cottage soon enough.

He knows he should be happy as well. It's an opportunity for him as well – to train with the palace guard and hone his skills to perfection. At the same time he wants to stay where he is, because he knows that his attraction to the young princess will only continue to grow if they start to live in such close proximity. Meeting her in the corridors, during feasts, or on the training grounds will be just a matter of time, which makes him uneasy to say the least.

Truth be told, it's a disaster in the making and he already knows the consequences will be dire.

"What do you make of it, my son?"

His father's question forces him back into the realm of reality. He looks at the man he admires so much for his strength, wisdom, and loyalty, and he cannot bring himself to say what lies heavily on his heart, because he knows that his father will move Arda itself to make him happy, even at the cost of his own happiness. He won't sacrifice his father's dream for his own comfort.

"Congratulations, _ada_ ," he says in response with false cheer and a smile plastered like a mask across his face. He is a good actor, maybe even too good. At any rate, his parents are too overjoyed to notice anything amiss. They spent the next few hours talking about the future, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside Thranduil's soul.

-o-o-o-

True to his prediction, he sees her at least once every single week after they come to live in the palace.

His father is busy with his new duties, which demand much of his time and leave him exhausted by the end of each day. His mother divides her time between weaving, gardening, and socializing. She has made so many friends in the palace that their quarters are constantly buzzing with conversations and laughter, since her guests seem to come in at every hour of the day.

For his part, Thranduil feels strangely estranged from their joy. His training with the palace guard keeps him busy throughout mornings and early afternoons three to five days each week, but otherwise he is free to do as he pleases and he finds himself with more time on his hands than he would have liked.

Elhael, who has decided to follow in his father's footsteps and become a scholar, spends his days in the vast library, learning all there is to know and helping the librarian. He has informed Thranduil shortly after they have postponed their journey for yet another few months that being a warrior was never truly his dream, which he accepted with a thoughtful nod of his head. To be honest, he has known it all along. As a result of Elhael's decision, he visits the library often to talk with his friend, but mostly he simply reads every book that he can get his hands on.

He feels a little bit less lonely when he is doing something.

The tales of battles long past, the beautiful poems written by authors of different races, and the occasional novel that pass through his fingers make him forget about the image that haunts him still.

Seeing her on a regular basis is both a curse and a blessing. When his eyes land on her, he is reminded of everything he will never have. Yet, at the same time, he is tempted to try and catch her if she lets him. This internal conflict tears him apart bit by bit and yet he cannot confess his confounding feelings to anyone for fear of ridicule and laughter.

 _"_ I will suffer in silence until it goes away," he decides one day in the middle of December as he beholds her in all her glory, moving gracefully only one level above him in a glimmering silver gown. She looks particularly beautiful that day and he cannot bring himself to move or look away just yet, even though he normally would have just stolen one glance before leaving her be.

She stops in her tracks and looks down suddenly as if sensing his presence. Either he doesn't move fast enough or her reflexes are sharper than his. Whichever it is, he will never know, but it results in their eyes locking for the very first time. A shiver goes down his spine as he savours this unexpected gift. Her eyes grow wider and her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink, which is blatantly visible against her fair skin, even from a distance. They stay like this for a few long second before her lips quirk into a soft smile. She pays little attention to the flabbergasted group of court ladies, who are probably wondering what has gotten into her all of the sudden, since they apparently can't spot him as easily as the princess.

In a move that is both tentative and daring, he raises his left hand and waves to her in a greeting long overdue. She responds with a small wave of her own before giving him another smile. Then she turns back to the ladies of the court and engages them in small talk. Her eyes sought his two more times before she is gone, but it's already more than he could ever ask for.

As a result, his mood is better than it has been in years for the rest of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silevon means "shining white male" and Elhael means "wise elf" in Elvish, in case you were wondering :) Both of those characters deserved nice names, since they will play a major part in this story. No, I won't tell you anything else.  
> Next chapter should be up soon. Probably before the end of the week ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go!  
> I hope you’ll find this part just as enjoyable as the previous one. This is more of an insight into Tauriel’s life, but I think it’s pretty interesting, considering all the changes I’ve made to the canon. You need to basically learn about her from the very beginning and the same goes for Thranduil.  
> As I’ve already warned you in tags/summary, this will be a slow burn type of a story, so don’t expect kisses and declarations of love straight away. It will take a bit of time before we’ll get to it, but I can guarantee that it will be more than worth it ;)  
> Please, remember to favourite/review!  
> Enjoy!

* * *

**Tauriel**

* * *

 

A sigh of relief escapes her lips as the gate of the Royal Gardens closes behind her with a soft click, leaving her alone for the first time that day. She cautiously looks around to make sure that she is truly on her own before letting out a giggle of delight and breaking into a run amongst the ever-blooming flowers. Her face is still flushed, the only visible sign of her excitement after the unexpected exchange between her and the mysterious warrior she locked eyes with in the corridors barely two hours ago.  
  
She comes to a halt in front of the bench in the middle of the garden and decides to sit down. Her breath comes out in little huffs, but she doesn’t care for etiquette in the privacy of her favourite place in the world. In front of the court ladies, in the presence of her parents, and even in the comfort of her chambers, she always needs to maintain a certain level of tranquillity, which can be truly suffocating at times. When the eyes of the kingdom are trained on her, she cannot let herself be natural and open, but instead she is forced to restrain her raging emotions and all the energy coursing through her veins. Sometimes she wonders if anyone else struggles with what is proper and desired, because more often than not she feels terribly alone with her inability to maintain the perfect mask of polite indifference.  
  
In a not so rare moment of weakness, her thoughts turn to that mysterious warrior and she thanks Eru profoundly that her mother was not present to witness her daughter’s display of emotions. Unlike the court ladies, the queen is exceptionally perceptive and she would have noticed the quiet moment her daughter shared with the _ellon_ straight away.  
  
As it is, she wasn’t there and so Tauriel can enjoy the unblemished memory of his handsome face in peace, without Berelinil’s scorn to spoil all the fun.  
  
Of course she has seen him before many times. Her habit of sneaking away and observing soldiers during their training has been a cause for many quarrels between her and her parents. She doesn’t think that her father has anything against her desire to pursue archery or even learn a bit about how to properly handle a sword, but her mother’s opinion matters more and she thinks it’s simply improper for a lady of Tauriel’s station to engage in such barbaric activities. Tauriel isn’t quite sure if she would’ve liked to train with those elves she sees during her little escapades, but she still loves to watch them from time to time, especially this one _ellon_ who visibly stands out amongst the rest of the warriors.  
  
When he fights, he is deadly in every sense of the word, but there’s also beauty hidden in his fluid movements and quick strikes. Her heart behaves like a caged butterfly every time she sees him on the practice ring and she has to bite her hand to muffle a scream when the sword of his opponent is half a second away from hurting him. Of course every time he does get hurt, he pretends it’s nothing, but she can see him wince every now and again, and she just knows that he’s not well. She doesn’t like seeing him in pain.  
  
She still remembers the day when she has heard his name for the first time, shouted as it was across the training grounds by one of the other warriors.  
  
“Thranduil,” she whispers into the quiet garden like a little prayer and then she giggles at the complete ridiculousness of the situation. She doesn’t even know him, yet she assumes that she can address him so informally. Her mother would have been appalled!  
  
The thought of her mother’s face if she saw and heard her now brings a new wave of laughter to her lips.  
  
When she calms down, she lays down on the stone bench and closes her eyes. Then she brings her hand to rest above her heart and once again utters the warrior’s name.   
  
Her heart flutters against her fingers faster than ever.   
  
She smiles to herself as she once again recalls his smile, the intensity of his light eyes, and the subtle flirtation in the nimble bend of his wrist.

-o-o-o-

Not many know that her mother is Silvan, though, in their defence, it isn’t very obvious. Berelinil isn’t also a type to go around proclaiming her heritage, especially considering the fact that Tauriel is pretty much sure at this point that her mother is ever so slightly ashamed of it, though there is hardly any sound reason for it.  
  
While her father is tall and fair, ever the imposing ruler, her mother is more petite in built and her hair, as well as her eyes, are the soft orange brown of the autumn leaves. Her temper is also shorter than his, though it carefully hidden away, since she has such an immaculate control over herself. Sometimes she reminds Tauriel of a marble statue, though she can also be warm and loving on occasions, as rare and far between as they are.  
  
Her parents’ve met during one of her father’s many journeys and they fell in love instantly. Her mother told her many times that she has always dreamed of returning to the land of her ancestors, but she couldn’t do it straight away after her marriage. Tauriel remains highly sceptical if the _elleth_ truly feels at home amongst the merry folk of Greenwood the Great though. It has been centuries since her mother has last set foot in the forest of her birth and the orderly ways of life she got used to in both Doriath and then Lindon simply doesn’t apply to _Amon Lanc_.  
  
“Can you not be still, even for a moment?” Her mother admonishes her as she tugs on Tauriel’s hair harder than necessary to get her daughter’s attention. “One would think you would like to have this ordeal over with as soon as possible. At the rate it is going now, we will spend the entire morning on a simple updo!”  
  
“I apologize,” Tauriel answers with the most innocent smile she can muster. She can see her mother’s reflection frowning at her in return.  
  
She has been trying to behave herself for the entire month in preparation for one of the most daring escapes from the watchful eyes of the court she has ever planned. Today is the day, but her thoughts are running rampant with excitement and she has almost revealed herself a moment ago, too focused on the stray thoughts floating freely in her mind to pay proper attention to her surroundings.  
  
“Is it different?” She decides to ask a rather random question to break the uncharacteristic silence in the room. Usually she talks all the time, but the nerves are eating away at her too much. Her mother can’t notice anything amiss if it is to work as it should and for the last half an hour Tauriel has been doing nothing but giving her all the hints she needs to discover her daughter’s clever scheme.  
  
“Is what different, child?” Berelinil responds with her own question, pulling mercilessly at Tauriel’s long tresses to smooth them out before braiding them tightly. “You speak like my mother used to so often these days... Too much time in the wrong company, I would say.”  
  
Tauriel grimaces slightly at the comment, trying very hard to suppress the need to defend the kitchen staff with whom she spends her afternoons more often than not. Her mother doesn’t approve of it, but allows her this small privilege as long as she dedicates herself to her studies and duties with enough fervour. Any other day she probably would have said something and they would have argued about the matter, as per usual, but today she really wants to stay on her mother’s good side. Surprisingly enough, it is more than a ruse to get her mother’s mind off any suspicions still floating about, since she is actually interested in the answer. Plus yet another inane argument is the last thing she needs today.  
  
“I was referring to Greenwood,” she clarifies. “Is it the same as it was in your youth or has it changed?”  
  
For a minute or two her mother is completely quiet. If she didn’t feel her hands in her hair, she would have thought that the _elleth_ has actually left the room. Patience is not one of Tauriel’s virtues, but she makes an effort to stay still and wait in silence. The answer she is seeking is not that important, not really, and it certainly won’t make her mother’s oddities any less puzzling, but she thinks that maybe it will make her understand. Even though she is almost constantly in someone’s company, she doesn’t have much friends. It stems from the simple fact that she is not sure who she really is. The truth about her mother’s past can very well be one of the keys to unlocking something in Tauriel and thus may help her in gaining better footing in life.  
  
“It is like it was back then,” her mother finally says. “Lively, vibrant, in a state of constant chaos...”  
  
Tauriel glances up in time to see a small sad smile lifting the corners of Berelinil’s mouth.  
  
“I used to love it when I was a child,” she discloses next. Her voice is quiet and distant, as if she was reaching into the past to pull her memories out from the corners of her mind. “My mother and father encouraged my curiosity and so I often found myself walking through the forest. It didn’t matter if it was night or day; if I was alone or with my friends; if I was lost or if I knew my way around. My heart was bursting with this wonderful, indescribable feeling of utter joy whenever I could experience it. I was free in those days... I was free...”  
  
“Are you not free now, then?” Tauriel probes. “Did something change?”  
  
“I grew out of silly dreams, my child.” Her mother’s smile turns bitter. “And I would strongly advise you to do the same as soon as you can.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You cannot survive in this world with your head in the clouds,” is the simple answer. “The stars are too far away. It’s better to stay on the ground.”

-o-o-o-

  
Sneaking away from the library, where her mother leaves her after the morning meal to study the star charts, is much easier than she has ever thought possible.  
  
As soon as she is away from her mother, she leaves behind the surprising bitterness of their morning conversation. She cannot get distracted, not now, but she promises herself to think it through at a later date.  
  
Moving on her tiptoes, she exits right through the main doors and then turns right before making her way down the wide spiralling staircase that she knows well will take her right to the kitchens, where she is supposed to meet with her young friend, Galion.  
  
She met the elfling a month after her arrival in _Amon Lanc_. Though she has interacted and played with children quite often when she still resided in Lindon, being naturally maternal and caring, she had never encountered a child of such a sunny disposition or one that smiled so brightly each and every day. They became friends instantly, even though Tauriel is much older than him. Since he was the youngest child of five and came from a big, loud family, he needed a lot of guidance and warmth in the palace, where he now lived permanently. He visited with his family occasionally, but work usually kept them apart. Tauriel was more than happy to fill the role of an older sister for him and he seemed to appreciate it in his own way.   
  
A smile pulls at her lips as she takes another turn to the right, just a moment after jumping off the last step. It stays firmly in place when she skips quietly down the long empty corridor, fighting the urge to hum or even sing. She is so absorbed in her own thoughts that she almost misses the sound of approaching footsteps and a murmur of an engaging conversation. Thankfully, she manages to duck behind a tapestry and into a little alcove just in time to avoid running into a group of maids carrying baskets full of freshly-washed laundry. With both hands covering her mouth to muffle her laboured breathing, she waits until the echo of their voices fades and then she quickly leaves her hiding spot behind.  
  
Two more staircases and a few turns later, she reaches her destination. Galion is already waiting for her with a duffle bag slung over his bony shoulders. He is visibly fidgeting, as if waiting for someone to pull him away from where he is standing. The heavy wooden doors leading to the kitchen, which have been left ajar, obscure him from view though and he is safe there for now. She walks right in front of the kitchen entrance without waiting for an opportunity to do so completely unnoticed. The longer she stands there and lurks, the bigger the risk of being discovered.  
  
“Come on,” she mouths to Galion, who immediately follows her silent order.  
  
They are quiet for a long time as they make their way through a maze of secret passageways.   
  
“This is such a bad, bad, bad idea...” Little Galion murmurs over and over again as if saying it out loud is going to make it any better.  
  
“So you keep reminding me,” she shots back in a whisper at one point while rolling her eyes at his theatrics.  
  
He is obviously afraid that they will run into a servant. Such an unfortunate occurrence would likely result in a memorable punishment for him, since he is supposed to be chopping up vegetables for the midday meal instead of showing the princess the only unguarded way out of the palace.  
  
“I mean it.” He gives her a hard look over his shoulder. “You’re safe here, m’lady. Outside of these walls it will be much different.”  
  
She snorts.  
  
“And what shall befall me outside, Galion?” She asks. “Do you suppose there is a dark beast lurking around, just waiting to snatch me away? Because I think you just have a very vivid imagination, little one.”  
  
“I do not!” He puffs out his cheeks, which are slowly turning red in embarrassment. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”  
  
“I know,” she says with a small smile. “And I appreciate it, _mellon_.”  
  
Even though he has his back to her once again, she knows he is smiling as well.  
  
It takes another few minutes of walking, but when they finally stop in the small and rather unkempt foyer, full of spider webs and dust as it is, she suddenly feels less sure of herself. Galion’s words have awoken her own worries and now she hesitates with her hand seconds away from touching the door handle.  
  
“Here you go, m’lady.” Galion pushes the bag into her arms, blissfully unaware of her growing doubt. “I’ve managed to nick some arrows for you as well. The clothes are not much. Some odd pieces I found in the laundry room. They’re clean and all, of course.”  
  
“And the bow?” She asks, her voice shaking just a little bit at the end.  
  
He grins at her mischievously before taking a few steps into the corner right beside the door. From there he pulls the most beautiful bow she has ever laid her eyes on. It’s smaller and more slender than the ones customary used by the guard, but when she wraps her fingers around it a moment later, she just knows it must be just as powerful. It is still quite heavy and feels strange in her inexperienced hands. Yet there’s also something oddly right about holding it that she cannot possibly deny or ignore.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispers in awe, tearing her eyes away from the bow to look at Galion.   
  
He just nods at her, still sporting a wide grin.  
  
Her gaze shifts to the door once again and suddenly the world outside doesn’t seem as daunting as it did just a moment ago.  
  
With a deep breath she pulls the door open. A rush of chilly autumn air fills her nostrils. It smells like apples, moist leaves, and something distinctively spicy that she can’t quite put her finger on.  
  
“I shall be back before the evening meal is served,” she tells Galion before swinging the bag over her shoulder and walking out of the palace, leaving its safety behind for the excitement of an adventure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Elvish, Berelinil means “a woman with a fiery gleam in the eyes” and Tinnor is a combo of the words “spark” and “male”. I try to find names that suit the personalities of my characters the most, though Tauriel’s mother was very difficult to pin down. She is a very complicated character, as you will learn later on. For now, I’ve given you a little glimpse, but rest reassured that all will be revealed in due time.  
> Just a side note: I will probably be able to finish Part 3 before Monday, but we shall see :)


End file.
